


Jonsa Tumblr Prompts

by ALCzysz17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, May contain rating M or E, Minor pairings - Freeform, Oneshot dump site, Random Drabbles, Rating mainly G to T, Rating stated in each chapter, Tumblr Prompts, Warnings in Chapter Summary, jonsa, random oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2019-11-24 01:50:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18159893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALCzysz17/pseuds/ALCzysz17
Summary: This is literally a dump site for any drabbles or oneshots or requests from tumblr. This can be requested for me to write or mostly, me taking it upon myself to write something for fun. Rating will be announced per each chapter. Most chapters will be unrelated unless stated otherwise. Any could be used later on for a longer story as well.Enjoy! ^_~





	1. #131: Are you doodling?

 

 

"Are you doodling?"

Jon lifted his head up, jaw dropping as he took in Sansa Stark standing before him with her long, gleaming red hair and her pretty blue eyes.

"Um, uh," Jon stumbled to reply, feeling like a deer caught in headlights as he glanced between his sketched drawing of the girl inquiring about it.

Sansa smiled brighter, casually tugging the paper from his prone hand to look at it. Jon could feel his face heating up from embarrassment. She's going to know I have a crush on her, he thought, waiting for her reaction.

Her eyes followed the lines on the paper that slowly came to be her smiling face. Once she had her fill, Sansa placed the paper back on the table, looking down at Jon with bright eyes and a soft smile.

"I like it," she mumbled, her cheeks rosier than normal and stealing Jon's breath away.

"Thank you," Jon replied, bowing his head at her compliment.

"Keep doodling, Jon, I'd like to see more like this." Sansa gave him a wink when he glanced back up then she was walking back to her friends and leaving him in a daze.

Keep doodling, he thought as he turned back to the sketch, shading lightly around her eyes.

He intended to.

 

 


	2. #1: The skirt is supposed to be this short

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None  
> Word Count: 268

“The skirt is supposed to be this short,” Sansa insisted, pressing down upon the material as she shifted from her right side to her left in front of the mirror.

Jon was sitting on her bed, beyond her shoulder, giving her an arched brow and amused smile on his lips. His eyes roved down her body to where the skirt stopped two inches underneath her bottom. He had asked the question, ‘is it supposed to be that short’, when she slipped into it.

“If you insist,” he mumbled, eyeing the length of her bare thighs.

“Shut up,” she huffed, glaring at him through the mirror while crossing her arms in front of her.

Jon chuckled, pushing off her bed to approach her. She felt his chest brush her back as his arms came around her to wrap her up. His chin came down to rest of her right shoulder while gazing at her through the mirror.

“So…what do you think?” she finally asked. Sansa felt him chuckle through his chest and into her back. 

“It’s…cute, but you’re not leaving this room in it,” Jon answered honestly, squeezing her tightly to him.

“Jon!” Sansa yelled, shoving back against him in annoyance. He only shook his head though.

“I’m your boyfriend, I’m allowed to see your ass, and I won’t let anyone else to see it,” Jon declared as he stepped back, swiftly giving her ass a swat before commenting, “now change into something that doesn’t show off what’s mine.”

Sansa huffed at him again but smiled regardless as she rubbed her bottom. “Guess this is a home only skirt.”


	3. #111: You can't just hug me and think everything's okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Warning: None  
> Word Count: 626

 

 

“You can’t just hug me and think everything’s okay,” Sansa choked out, weakly pushing against Jon’s shoulders though he didn’t release her. His hands stroked up and down her back, cradling her to him.

“I know, I’m sorry, Sansa. I should have told you, but I didn’t want to worry you,” he admitted, brushing his lips against her temple, hoping to soothe her hurt feelings.

“Didn’t want to worry me?! Jon! You lied to me for weeks and now you’re sorry because you were found out!” Sansa accused accurately. Jon grimaced, dropping his face into her hair and neck in hopes of hiding away from the world. “I know you think I might be overreacting, but I’ve already lost enough people in my life, and I don’t want to lose you too!”

“I’m sorry, Sansa. I am so sorry.”

It was stupid, truly. Jon knew he should have told her from the beginning that he had joined a fight club to make more money for them, but he knew she’d be worried. His last fight hadn’t left him without some pain, mainly three bruised ribs. It was hard to hide it from her, and really, Jon should have known Sansa would find out though. She was a med student.

“Let me see.” Jon groaned, clinging to her even tighter though it was physically hurting him. “Jon, let me see,” Sansa said once more, her voice sterner than before.

Upon pulling back, he noticed her face set in stern lines with demanding eyes. Sighing, Jon stepped back from her, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. She gasped at the black and blue of his skin by the left side of his ribs. Her cool fingertips felt amazing against his tender skin.

“Oh Jon,” Sansa mumbled sadly, her eyes watering once more.

“It’s fine, I’m healing well, and I’m not scheduled for another fight for a few more weeks.” Jon realized belatedly that, that was the last thing he should be telling her.

Sansa immediately started shaking her head. “No! No more fighting, no more club! I can’t have you beaten black and blue.”

“Do you have such little confidence in me?” Jon jokingly asked, wincing as she pressed against his bruised skin, examining the bruising.

“I’m confident you’re going to get yourself killed,” Sansa answered grimly, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his darkened skin. Jon hissed at the touch, both soothing and slightly painful.

“We need the money,” Jon insisted.

“We need each other alive. I know times are hard right now, what with you being laid off and me racking up college debt, but we will get through this, Jon. You don’t need to fight to make money.” Sansa gave him another sad smile then wrapped her arms around his back, burying her face into his neck. Jon returned her hug, ignoring the pain in his ribs to hold her tightly. He knew she was right, that another job would come, but Jon also knew it would not pay as well. Not with the debt that was left behind from the family, all they had were each other now. 

He was making good money in this fighting club, enough for them to better survive on while Sansa made her way through medical school. He couldn’t just give that up so quickly, not yet anyway.

Jon whispered more apologies into her ear, pressing a kiss there and her temple, knowing all too well that he would attend that next fight because they would need the money. He wouldn’t lie to her though, if she asked where he was going, he would answer truthfully, even though he knew she wasn’t going to like it.

It’s for us, Jon thought, yet another part of him asked, is it?...

 

 


	4. #117: Can I do your hair?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Warning: None  
> Word Count: 846

 

 

“Can I do your hair?”

Jon stopped pulling his hair back into a bun, peering through the mirror to see his cousin, Sansa standing at the bathroom door, watching him. He arched a brow in question, finding it weird that she would pose such a question. They weren’t all that close, not like he was with the rest of his cousins; her siblings.

“Why?” Jon asked, generally confused.

Sansa shrugged her shoulders, glancing down to her feet first then mumbled out, “Well it’s gotten so long, and I figured you would like some pointers on how to maintain it, but I mean you don’t worry about it. You know what, never mind, forget I asked.” Sansa spun on her heel though Jon was quick enough to latch onto her wrist to keep her from escaping the bathroom.

“Wait, Sansa.” She stopped though she avoided his gaze. There was a red flush on her cheeks though, as if she were embarrassed. Normally his cousin was so confident in herself, always seeming to know what to say or how to look.

The only time he ever seen her like this was when she was talking to a crush…

“What would you do?” Jon asked lightly, releasing her slim wrist from his grip. Her soft skin left a tingle in his fingers that made him close his hand briefly into a fist.

“Pardon?” Sansa questioned, finally looking up into his eyes.

“What would you do for my hair?” Jon further asked, turning back to the mirror to run his fingers through his hair. At the moment it was nothing but a frumpy mess, especially after running a brush through it earlier.

Sansa stepped further in, tilting her head as she stared at his hair. Jon felt his face heating up underneath her scrutinizing eyes, her pretty blue scrutinizing eyes. Then her fingers were running through his hair, combing through the messy strands as she thought to herself. His face was nothing but redness now as he watched her, feeling her nails scratch his scalp. It was tantalizing and made him feel strangely warm all over.

“Please tell me you don’t use a shampoo and conditioner mix,” Sansa said vaguely, still scrutinizing his hair. He did.

“Uh…”

“Well stop! It’s making your scalp really greasy, also you should use a wide tooth comb for your curls, not a brush otherwise it looks like-like.”

“Like this,” Jon offered, grimacing at how ill-advised he was with growing his hair out. Ygritte had mentioned that longer hair would look better on him, and he knew his girlfriend liked long hair on men, so he figured he’d give it a try.

So far, it’s been a horrible try.

“Well, yes, but don’t worry! I’m here to help!” Sansa declared happily, dragging Jon over to the shower.

In the end, she forced him to lean over the tub while she stood inside it to wash his hair for him like he was in a salon or something. Jon found he liked her nails and fingers on his scalp and hair, enjoying the massaging feel of her fingers on his head even though it was uncomfortable for him leaning over the tub as he was. Sansa then dragged him to her bedroom, the one place he avoided entering at all cost.

It was here she forced him to sit at her vanity, walking him through different hair products. Though they smelled nice and girly, he didn’t mind as she fiddled with his hair further. She combed her fingers through the strands of his hair, working in a styling gel for curly/wavy hair. During the whole time, Sansa spoke about different things he could do with his hair, mentioning that putting his hair in a man-bun was nice, but he was forbidden from using a hair brush ever again. She even gave him her own wide tooth comb.

It was bright yellow and for some reason, it made him extremely happy. Jon wished he knew why.

“There!” Sansa announced happily, smiling at Jon through her vanity mirror.

Jon looked at himself in the mirror, amazed at how well his hair was staying in curls around his face without being a frizzy, frumpy mess as usual. Even touching his hair, he found it soft, but not greasy like Sansa had stated to him earlier, advising him to put the conditioner on his ends and not his scalp.

“Thank you, Sansa,” Jon said genuinely surprised and thankful. He turned around to peer up at her, noticing her face was glowing red.

“It was nothing, I just wanted to help my cousin is all,” Sansa stated shyly, waving him off.

Jon stood up, enclosing her in a hug. Sansa stuttered over her words in shock then slowly embraced him back, mumbling, “You’re welcome.”

As he was leaving her room with the yellow comb and styling gel, Jon wondered if he and Sansa would have a better relationship like he did with the rest of his cousins. He also wondered why he hoped it was different from his other cousins too…

 

 


	5. #4: Who gave you that black eye?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Warning: Slightly sexual mentions  
> Word Count: 1159

 

 

“Who gave you that black eye?”

Jon jumped, peering through the mirror to see a shadowed face in the darkness of the hall. It was his cousin, Sansa. He hadn’t noticed her in the doorway with the hall dark and the bathroom being the only source of light.

“Well?” she prompted, coming closer for him to better see her with his only seeing eye. Sansa had a brow arched and her arms crossed over her chest; waiting.

Jon noted that she was dressed for bed in her white tank top and cotton shorts. “No one,” he finally grumbled, returning to what he was doing before she appeared.

“No one,” Sansa echoed skeptically. “No one gave you a black eye? Jon, you don’t have to lie; you're terrible at it.”

“I’m a little busy right now, Sansa.” Jon unscrewed the cap of the rubbing alcohol, wrinkling his nose at the sharp smell. He knew it was going to hurt once he applied it to his eye, but he needed to disinfect it.

“Let me help,” Sansa said as she stepped further into the small hall bathroom, moving to take the bottle from him. A frown pursed his lips together, pulling the bottle from her held out hand.

“Sansa,” Jon warned, glaring at her with one eye as the other was fully swollen shut. He knew he didn’t look very threatening, but he hoped it would deter her form helping.

Jon should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Let me help.” Sansa gently shoved him aside after yanking the bottle from his grip. He held back any grumbles before sitting on the closed toilet seat.

She then grabbed the pack of cotton pads, tipping rubbing alcohol onto a pad until it was saturated before turning to him. Jon made the mistake of staring straight ahead where her braless chest was level with his gaze. His cheeks reddened as he noticed that her white tank top looked translucent in the yellow light of the bathroom, allowing him to make out the pink of her nipples in contrast to the white cloth.

Shit, Snow, Jon cursed away at himself internally, averting his eyes to her face as she brought down the alcohol-soaked pad to his swollen eye. He hissed at the sting, flinching away from her.

“Hold still,” Sansa muttered, snatching a hold of his chin to keep him still.

Jon grinded his teeth to better endure the sting while she cleaned up his eye. She was far gentler than Robb or Arya would have been had either found him instead.

It seemed like his shit luck that it was Sansa, considering how he got the black eye in the first place.

“So, you’re not going to tell me how you got the black eye, are you?” Jon opted to not even acknowledge her question in a bid to avoid telling her the truth. His eye dropped down from her face, getting lost in the neat point of her erect nipples then down to her feet as he willed away the increased redness in his face.

Sansa scoffed at his lack of response. She tossed the used pad into the trash between the toilet and sink before using two more to clean the rest of his eye.

“Stay put while I get you an ice pack.”

Jon nodded, watching her leave. He glanced down at his dirty socks and the mud with specks of blood on his jeans. He had been out with his friends from his hockey team, Night’s Watch. They were at the local bar in Winter Town, drinking beer as all were recently twenty-one.

It was there that Joffrey Baratheon came around, running his mouth as usual. He and his friends sat at the booth behind them, so it wasn’t hard to hear Joffrey’s loud mouth. Jon ignored it for the most part until he said one name.

Sansa.

Even now, sitting in the hall bathroom with an aching, swollen eye, Jon could feel his anger bubble to the surface. Joffrey started to mock Sansa, calling her a ‘fat sow’ and a ‘prude’, then he started to tell his friends how he wanted to hold her down and that was as far as Jon heard before he stood up. He grabbed the cowardly blonde bastard by his collar and punched him so hard that everyone around them heard the crunch of his nose breaking under pressure.

Joffrey never laid a hand on Jon. It was Meryn Trant who managed to land a solid punch to Jon’s eye. Grenn, Ed, and Pyp jumped in quickly as Sam tugged him away from the fray. They bailed before the cops could be called. Sam insisted they go to the hospital, but Jon told him ‘no’.

He just wanted to get home and sleep.

Sansa appeared with an ice pack meant for the boys’ lunch boxes, wrapped in a washcloth from the hall closet. She pressed the cold pack and cloth against his aching eye. The cold felt amazing against his heated skin. Sansa reached up, brushing back his loose, curly hair. Her touches were far more soothing than the ice pack.

“Why do you have to be such a stupid boy?” Sansa asked softly, dragging her nails against his scalp that sent shivers rolling down his spine.

Jon merely shrugged, not wanting to speak and break this moment. She rarely touched him though he always craved it; her touch. His stupid crush from adolescences never truly died it seemed.

“Was it worth it?” she asked next, continuing her ministrations.

“Yes,” he answered, his throat rough and making his answer sound like a purr. Sansa hummed in response, gripping his hair at the back of his neck and forcing him to tilt his head back.

Jon watched her smile through his lone eye.

“Next time you want to defend my honor and not tell me about it, try not doing it in a bar that Robb’s girlfriend waitresses at, hmm.” Jon swallowed hard, vaguely remembering Jeyne dropping off their beers with a smile.

Sansa then leaned down, stopping a hair-breadth from his face; from his lips. “Thank you, Jon,” she mumbled before pressing the sweetest kiss to his lips. The pressure was soft and lingering.

Just as Jon thought to reach out for her, she stepped back, catching his hand to replace hers on the ice pack. A soft glow of pink highlighted her cheeks. It was entrancing.

“Keep the ice pack against your eye to bring down the swelling,” Sansa instructed as she turned to leave him. She stopped at the threshold, peering over her shoulder to say, “Good night, Jon.”

“Night, Sansa,” he said to the empty space she had occupied moments ago.

A smile lifted his lips though his injured cheek protested the movement. It was worth it. It was a hundred times worth it, especially if that was the gratitude he would receive.

It was so fucking worth it…

 

 


	6. #41: You’re going out dressed like that?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Warning: None  
> Word Count: 758

 

 

“You’re going out dressed like that?”

Jon stopped at the front door, glancing over his shoulder to see Sansa staring at him with her ever critical eye. He frowned immediately then peered down at his clothes before shrugging.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” he questioned with a hint of annoyance. She rolled her eyes, coming down the steps to meet him on level ground.

“You look homeless,” Sansa deadpanned, giving him a once over. “Aren’t you going on a date?” she then asked with an elegant brow arched.

Jon pursed his lips together, glancing down at his clothes again. Sure, his jeans were a bit ratty at the ends and one knee had a hole (entirely created by him on purpose), and his buttoned-up shirt was a bit wrinkly, but otherwise he looked fine.

“Ygritte’s not going to care how I look.” Sansa snorted.

“Are you so sure about that? This is your first date, not the fifth or sixth. Then again, I wouldn’t ever allow you to look so scummy if you were dating me.”

This time Jon rolled his eyes. “Good thing I’m not dating you then.”

“Look, I’m only trying to help you make a good impression. Don’t you want a second date with her?” Sansa inquired softly, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the wall.

He knew the answer should be ‘yes’, but he couldn’t get his mouth to say it. Honestly, Ygritte asked him out, practically demanded that he take her out on a date after they made out at a party that Theon and Robb dragged him too. He didn’t particularly care if he looked nice for their date especially since he was sure that Ygritte would dress like she normally did.

Tight jeans, overly big shirt that was probably tied in a knot above her navel, and high-top sneakers with her ratty, unbrushed hair left unbound. Jon wasn’t sure he should make more effort than she would.

“Normally, people would answer ‘yes’, but since you’re taking forever to give an answer, I’m going to assume you don’t actually want to go on this date.”

“Is it that obvious?” Jon asked, shrugging on his black leather jacket that had seen better days a few years ago.

“Then why go?”

He shrugged, grabbing his keys off the hook by the door. “Nice night out? She also doesn’t annoy me too much.”

“Those are terrible reasons,” Sansa pointed out, laughing smile on her lips. “You do realize that’s how you get suck in an unwanted relationship, right?”

Jon opened his mouth to answer when his phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his jeans pocket to see Ygritte’s name and scowling face. He sighed deeply, swiping his thumb across the screen to answer it.

Sansa swiftly snatched his phone right out of his hand. “Hello? Oh, hi Ygritte! This is Sansa, Jon’s cousin. I’m so sorry to tell you but Jon isn’t feeling all that well. I think he might have food poisoning from that Dornish restaurant the family went to for lunch today.”

Jon made a face at her, but she ignored him, turning her back to him.

“You want to talk with him? Well, I would hand over the phone but he’s in the bathroom right now. Sorry, I’m not going in there, I can hear him retching from here.”

Jon shook his head, smile creeping up on his lips. When he looked up, he noticed her glancing over her shoulder to give him a wink.

“I’ll let him know you called, sorry that he can’t go out with you tonight, maybe next time? Good bye.” Sansa pressed the ‘end call’ button then turned back to Jon fully with a self-satisfied smirk on her lips.

“Thank you, Sansa,” Jon said graciously, taking back his phone as she handed it to him. She merely shrugged.

“I’ve done it for Robb and Arya before,” she stated then turned to go back upstairs.

Jon glanced out the small window in the door then back to Sansa’s retreating form before he called out, “Hey, Sansa!”

She paused mid-way up the stairs, turning halfway back to him. “Yes?”

“You mentioned that Dornish restaurant and well…want to get some dinner with me?”

Sansa slowly smiled then nodded. “Sure.”

Just as Jon moved to open the door she added, “But I’m not going anywhere with you dressed like that.”

He chuckled with a shake of his head.

“No, really, Jon, I’m serious. Go upstairs and change now.”

And she most certainly was serious…

 

 


	7. Hold my hand so he gets jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Warnings: None  
> Word: 1065

 

 

"Hold my hand, so he gets jealous."

Jon blinked once then turned his head down when he felt a soft, warm hand easily slipping into his. Sansa maneuvered her hand quickly, threading her fingers effortlessly through his thicker ones.

Heat flooded his face as a warmth pooled in his stomach. He croaked, "Sansa," but she ignored him, snuggling closer to him with her breast pressed tenderly to his arm and her other hand landing on the middle of his chest.

"Work with me here, Jon. You're too stiff," she grumbled under her breath though her lips never lost her sweet smile.

Jon was at a loss for what to do. One side of him wanted to push his cousin away, but the other half wished for nothing more than to pull her closer; if possible. He heard the huff of annoyance through her nose and knew he had to make a decision fast. Mustering all of his courage, he turned inward to her, placing his free hand around her waist and into the small of her back.

Her unsteady breath at his movement drew his eyes to see her cheeks coloring a rosy red. Sansa's eyes were averted though, staring a hole into the ground before glancing at him then to their right.

"Here he comes," she warned, both hands curling into his hand and shirt tightly. Jon looked up to see Harold Hardyng coming their way; Sansa's ex-boyfriend.

"Sansa," Harry called out with a smug smile on his lips though his eyes were rather narrowed as he took them in.

"Harry," Sansa greeted in a clipped tone. If memory served him right, Harry had cheated on Sansa numerous times before she broke up with him. Unconsciously, Jon's hand tightened on her waist.

"Is this your new boyfriend?" He asked next, arching a brow while inspecting Jon and probably comparing. He found it funny how easily Harry forgot that they had met plenty of times through family dinners and functions, only for him to not recognize Jon as her cousin.

Jon opened his mouth, intending to tell Harry it was none of his business, but Sansa beat him to speaking, "Yes, this is Jon."

Harry raised his hand to shake but Jon declined the offer, keeping his hands firmly around Sansa. The blonde's face immediately dropped into a deep frown that made his handsome features gruesome appearing.

"I see you found someone rather quick after our breakup."

"Yes," Sansa agreed, "but at least I waited until after we were broken up, not before."

"Can we talk about this in private?" Harry insisted darkly.

"No, I've already said what I wanted to say weeks ago while you were balls deep in that blonde bartender." Jon couldn't help the chuckle that erupted from his mouth. Sansa could be feisty, but he never got to witness it firsthand.

She turned towards Jon, intending to have him lead her away, but in the corner of his eye he saw Harry's hand reaching for her arm. Swiftly, Jon snatched Harry's hand before he even got close to her arm. He gripped his hand tightly around the blonde's wrist, bending it just right to gain a howl of pain from his smug mouth.

"You ever touch her again, I'll break every bone in your body, starting with this hand," Jon practically growled. During his fast movement, he pulled Sansa by their intertwined hands behind him, shielding her from her ex.

"Let go of my hand, asshole!" Jon glared harder at him, using his superior grip to bend his hand further back before releasing him.

Harry backed away quickly, securing his pained wrist to his chest before spitting out, "She was a fucking bore in bed anyway!"

The blood thirsty urge to beat his face in came when he felt Sansa flinch at the insult. "Maybe if you knew how to please a woman then she wouldn't have faked every orgasm she ever had with you. Enjoy your hand, dick."

Jon tugged Sansa away from Harry, avoiding the curious gazes they drew in the college courtyard. His blood was still boiling, but he felt better the further away they got from the asshole. Feeling shaking, he glanced at Sansa to find her holding in giggles. Then it was Sansa leading them away, tugging him along.

Once they were in a relatively quiet area of the campus, she turned to him with a curious expression on her sweet face. "I never told you I faked orgasms with Harry."

Jon bit the inside of his mouth before shrugging uselessly. "I guessed. I didn't think he was being truthful about you being a bore in bed so..."

Sansa smiled brightly at him, her cheeks still rosy and enchanting. He swallowed thickly when she stepped up to him, placing her free hand on his chest once more. "Thank you, Jon."

He nodded jerkily, feeling like a bobble head figurine. She bit her lip then quickly pressed a kiss to his cheek, the very edge of her lips brushing the corner of his. She lingered a moment, causing his nerves to shake and jitter beneath his skin where her lips stayed. It was both torture and bliss.

Sansa stepped back afterwards with her rosy cheeks now a deep red and her eyes a liquid heat, that reminded him of the vast ocean in White Harbor during their last family vacation. Jon was sure his eyes were darker too. A stormy grey to match her ocean blue.

"Maybe," Sansa started, pausing nervously as her eyes dropped to the ground. She cleared her throat, returning her blue gaze to his grey one. "Maybe you will find out soon."

Jon frowned at her cryptic message, opening his mouth to ask her what she meant when the realization dawned on him. He lightly choked, his entire body flaming up as the thought of Sansa writhing beneath him in his bed took over his vision.

He heard Sansa giggle at his reaction. "I'll see you around, Jon." He gave a vague wave of his hand, his eyes still glazed over from her words.

"See you," he mumbled though she was already gone.

Jon went to his next class in a daze and continued to stay that way for the rest of the day, finding that Sansa telling him to hold her hand was the best thing she had ever said to him...

 

 


	8. #127: It’s turbulence. It’s normal.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Warnings: None  
> Word Count: 692

 

 

“It’s turbulence. It’s normal.” Jon twisted his head to the right to see the pretty red head he was seated beside smiling gently at him. More turbulence rocked the plane, causing Jon to clutch at the arm rests by his sides as his heart dropped into his gut.

“This isn’t even the worst I’ve been through. It’s practically nothing,” she continued on, obviously trying to make him feel better, but it wasn’t working; at all.

“I’d rather there wasn’t any turbulence at all, actually,” Jon grumbled deeply, pursing his lips together to keep them from trembling. He hated flying with a passion. If he could drive everywhere or walk, he’d do it.

“It’ll be alright, trust me.” He glanced back at her to see another gentle smile then she lifted her hand up to him. “I’m Sansa, by the way.”

It took immense strength to get his left hand to release it’s death grip on the armrest to reach over and shake her hand, mumbling, “Jon.”

It was then another surge of turbulence shook the plan and Jon couldn’t quite help the tightening of his hand around hers. Sansa merely smiled though, giving him squeezes throughout the shaking until it ended. He noted that her hands were incredibly soft and he sort of missed holding her hand when he finally released it.

Before he could say anything, a ding went off in the plane then the sober voice of the captain came on, “Sorry about the bumpy ride, folks. It seems we’ll be heading over a storm, so remain seated and try to enjoy the rest of the flight.”

Jon swallowed thickly then clenched his eyes shut to try and ease the amped up fear running through his veins. Oh, he hated flying so much. Theon was lucky they were such good friends, otherwise he’d never fly to Braavos.

“Jon.” Hearing that lovely voice say his name made him pop his eyes open. Sansa looked very concerned for him which was rather touching, considering they had only just met. “If you would like, you could hold my hand for the rest of the flight,” she offered, holding up her left hand to him.

The voice in his head that sounded an awful lot like Theon called him a baby for needing help from a woman to make it through a flight, but his gut told him any amount of comfort was better than tossing his cookies in front of the pretty girl. Instead of answering verbally, he nodded then reached up with his right hand to hold her.

They clasped hands together then Sansa moved her hand around his. Jon thought for a moment that she had changed her mind, but instead she merely adjusted their hands until her fingers were threading through his in a tight handhold. A flush came to his cheeks as he took in how nicely their hands fit each other.

“Better?” she asked, her own cheeks a pretty pink that matched his own.

Jon nodded, mumbling, “Yeah, yeah…”

“Good. I’ll be your support for the remainder of this trip then.”

Her hold eased the anxiety inside him even though more turbulence rocked the plane as they traveled above the storm. Her hand held tight, a form of keeping him grounded, ironically. Leaning back against his head rest, Jon was surprised at how much easier it was to suffer through the flight with a strong and steady hand leveling him out.

After a few minutes, he turned to ask her why she was going to Braavos, but his words stopped in his throat as he took in her sleeping form. She had a neck pillow propped against the closed window (when had she shut it?) with her head leaning against it as she snored softly. Jon stared at her for a few moments then turned away, feeling just a tad creepy for it.

How could anyone sleep on a plane? He never could. Still, her hand and even her obliviousness in her slumber eased Jon until the turbulence didn’t bother him at all.

He wondered if it was possible to get the same flight and seats together back?...

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Incident](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18936658) by [KingMaegortheWise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingMaegortheWise/pseuds/KingMaegortheWise)




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